


Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

by dappermancer



Series: Jukebox Fics [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Desk Sex, Drug Use, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Light Angst, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Porn With Plot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dappermancer/pseuds/dappermancer
Summary: "The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time // But I'm not finished 'cause you're not by my side" - Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High (Arctic Monkeys)President Schlatt needs someone to distract him from the silence.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Series: Jukebox Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216361
Comments: 4
Kudos: 117





	Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time (seriously, like 4+ years) since I was so invested in something that I've been consistently excited to create for. It's a rare occurrence for me to have so many different fic ideas clanging around in my head at once. 
> 
> This is the first installment in my song-fic series (super fucking original, I know) in which I'll be writing a bunch of different things based on this one playlist I've been looping for the past month. 
> 
> I'll put this disclaimer at the top of all these fics: I do not ship real people. This is supposed to be the characterized versions of Schlatt and Quackity, nothing more.
> 
> Enjoy!

Schlatt is drunk. There’s a still-smoldering cigar in the nearby ashtray, but it’s been long since forgotten about. The ram is focused on cutting a perfect line of cocaine. His hands are far too unsteady, and after the third or fourth try, he gives up and pushes the little piece of mirror away. It’s not worth it, anyway; he left the good shit at Techno’s house. He needs something else to occupy his mind.

He runs a hand through his hair and digs his phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t even scroll through the website that long, just puts on the first video that catches his eye and reaches down to unfasten his belt. He’s barely even paying attention to the erotic images before him, just wants something to fill the empty silence in this godforsaken office. 

The kid in the video looks oddly familiar: Big, dark doe-eyes, perfectly tanned skin, and messy black hair. He bites his lip and rolls onto his stomach, letting his (significantly larger) partner slide into him with little resistance. His moans are soft and melodic, filled with yearning. He’s beautiful. 

Quackity’s sharp laugh cuts through the air, jarring Schlatt from his porn and drug-induced trance. He quickly pauses the video, ears flicking up to try to identify where the sound is coming from. Two sets of footsteps pass his door, and he can make out both Tubbo and Quackity’s voices, though he can’t fully hear what they’re saying. 

Satisfied that they’re not about to catch him in the act, he slumps back in his chair. The mood is fully and completely gone now. Schlatt’s eyes fall on the thoroughly unimpressive lines of coke. One last hit, and then he’ll call it a night. 

The numbness sets in almost immediately, and Schlatt feels an odd sense of relief wash over him. At least when he’s high he doesn’t have to worry about what comes next; he’ll just ride the wave. 

If only he hadn’t gotten crossfaded. 

Schlatt reaches out to grab his phone, and he swears he’s lagging. His fingertips brush over the figure of the young man on his screen, over his thin waist, and… He has an idea. 

“No…” He says aloud. “There’s no way Quackity would want to… Right?”

It could be worth a shot. The main problem would be convincing the kid to go along with it. Maybe if he offered him money or something. Quackity’s a hard-headed guy, so it’ll take some work. He’ll have to make sure that no matter what, his little assistant will enjoy himself. He won’t let this be a one-time thing.

  
  


It’s almost 8 o’clock the next night. Schlatt ordered Italian for him and the boys, so he knows Quackity’s been fed and is probably much more relaxed than he would be otherwise. The ram rolls his sleeves up and presses the button on his desk phone that connects him to his assistant.

“Hey, boss man!” Comes the chipper answer.

“Come to my office as soon as you can, alright?”

“You got it! Everything okay?”

Schlatt hangs up instead of answering. He knows it’ll get the kid to show up sooner. As if he had any doubts, a moment later there’s a gentle knock and Quackity tentatively steps inside.

“That was fast.” The President leans back in his comfortable leather chair.

Quackity crosses his arms and gives his boss a crooked smile, “Well, you didn’t tell me what it was about, so I came fast to make sure you hadn’t keeled over dead.” He scans the office, eyes falling on the little square piece of mirror with the dust still on it. 

Schlatt grins, “Whatever would I do without you, Big Q?”

“Crash and burn without a doubt,” Quackity settles himself on the edge of the mahogany desk. “What did you need?”

The ram smiles and opens a large drawer at the bottom of his desk, producing an expensive-looking bottle of whiskey. “You had your first drink yet, Q?” He beckons his younger companion closer.

The young man laughs awkwardly and waves his superior’s words away. “Of course I’ve had a drink before!” He’s avoiding eye contact. 

“Yeah?” Schlatt can’t help the sarcastic edge in his voice. “What’ve you had, Ducky?”

Quackity bristles at the nickname but he can’t show weakness here. He finally makes eye contact. “I’ve had… Um… Wine?”

The ram laughs, tilting his head back. “So you’ve never had a drink before.”

“Yes, I have!” The young man crosses his arms indignantly. “I’ve even gotten drunk before!”

“Is that so?” Schlatt opens the bottle and takes a long drink before handing it over to his assistant. 

Quackity stares at the sloshing amber liquid for what he knows is far too long. He picks up the bottle, taking a few breaths to steel himself before following Schlatt’s lead and taking a huge sip. Immediately, the kid’s eyes bug and he chokes, letting the bottle fall to the hard tile floor where it shatters on impact. 

Schlatt closes his eyes and tries not to wince at the crash. That bottle was expensive. 

The kid looks up at his boss with wide eyes, fear crawling up his spine. “Schlatt… Fuck, man, I’m so sorry. I-I can pay you back for it.”

The President raises a hand to silence him. “You got $300 on you, Big Q?” He has to stop himself from smiling when Quackity starts noticeably shaking. 

“Y-you’re serious?!” He pulls his hat off and begins twisting it in his hands, “You gotta know I don’t have that.”

Schlatt laughs through his nose. “Figures.”

“Fuck…” The kid’s eyes are darting around the room, looking for some sort of escape or solution. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well…” The ram leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. “You can make it up to me another way.” 

“What’re you--”

Schlatt moves forward, boxing the smaller man in. “Don’t play dumb, Ducky. Don’t you wanna help me out?”

Quackity shivers, closing his eyes for a moment to steel himself. When he finally meets his boss’s eyes, something has changed. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that, Schlatt?”

The President laughs darkly, placing a hand on his assistant’s thigh. “Make no mistake, Quackity: You owe  _ everything _ to me.”

“Shut up.” 

Schlatt raises an eyebrow and steps back. “Oh, now you’re gonna act like you have a backbone, hmm?” He crosses his arms, a grin forming on his lips. “You know you wanna lose yourself, Q. And you know I can help you with that.”

The room is silent. Quackity hates this. He’s always felt so small compared to the others in his life, especially to Schlatt, though he’d never admit it out loud. He should just lay back and accept his fate; be the easy toy who always does as he’s told. Or… An idea comes to him. He’s never considered using his body for leverage before, but this would be the perfect time to do so. Maybe, just maybe this could work out for him. 

Quackity drops his hat to the side and shrugs off his suit jacket, “Fine.”

Schlatt’s a bit taken aback. He didn’t think his manipulation would work so easily, not that he’s complaining. Whatever conclusion the young man came to on his own is working wonders. He decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and instead moves in close, pressing a gentle kiss to Quackity’s forehead.

“It’s your first time, right?” No response. “Don’t worry, Q, I’ll be nice.”

The ram slides his hands up and under his boy’s shirt, tracing his fingers over the soft, tanned skin. He keeps an eye on Quackity’s movements, watching for some sign of pleasure or discomfort. Despite everything, he doesn’t want the kid’s first time to hurt. 

Schlatt steps back, loosening his tie and slowly unfastening his belt. “Turn around, put your hands on the desk.” 

The young man does as he’s told, stopping only to undo his belt and drop his pants. He leans on his elbows, finding a place to stare. From behind him comes the sound of a soft chuckle followed by Schlatt spitting on his fingers. A hand presses against his lower back and Quackity involuntarily lurches forward.

“Hold on, hold on--”

The ram pauses, “Something wrong?”

“Just…” He takes a shaky breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Just walk me through what you’re doing, alright? Please?” His voice wavers on the last word.

“Oh, honey,” Schlatt leans down over his partner’s back to nip at his ear. “I’ll tell you everything.”

That relaxes the young man. He bites his lip, mentally following Schlatt’s hands as they map out his body; sliding down from his waist to his ass to his thighs. It’s more tender than Quackity was expecting. His boss’s calloused hands slide between his legs, feeling him gently. 

“Right now, I’m getting you ready for everything. Now…” The sound of Schlatt wetting his fingers again, “I’m gonna open you up for me, baby, got it?”

The kid nods, nervously running a hand through his hair. A moment later, there’s a gentle push at his hole, and a finger slides into him. Quackity can’t help the almost guttural moan that rips from his throat. It feels odd but still better than he was expecting. 

“How’s that, Ducky?”

“Mm--” He takes a shaky breath. “Fine. Good.”

“‘Fine’ isn’t nearly good enough,” The ram laughs and begins adding another finger. “Let’s see if we can’t fix that.”

Quackity groans and bites his lip, letting his eyes fall closed. It does feel good. Even high, and it’s obvious that Schlatt is high, his hands are somewhat of a comfort. 

The ram smiles and presses deeper; his suit pants are steadily getting tighter. God, he wants to just drop all pretense and shove himself inside of his lovely assistant, but he knows he can’t, especially if he ever wants this to happen again. 

He spends another ten minutes just opening Quackity up. The whole time, he’s praising the kid, whispering to him, and pressing loving kisses into his skin. Quackity, for his part, has let himself get more and more into it, and now he’s letting out soft little sounds and beginning to move his hips.

“Think you’re ready for the next thing, Big Q?”

Quackity doesn’t dare answer, knowing full well how his voice would betray him if he did. Instead, he nods, leaning further forward and letting his head rest on his arms. 

Satisfied with the kid’s answer, Schlatt removes his fingers and unfastens his belt, pulling himself out. The ram hesitates for a moment and then sinks into his chair, spreading his legs apart. “C’mere, baby.”

The young man slowly opens his eyes, blinking rapidly before turning to see. He sucks in a breath, trying to mask his genuine surprise at the sight that greets him: Schlatt relaxed back in his chair, looking at Quackity with eyes dark from lust and the effects of the drugs in his system. His shirt is unbuttoned down to his navel, which seems almost purposeful, as though he’s attempting to draw the eye directly down to his hard cock. 

“Well don’t make me wait now! After all that I just did for you, Ducky?” That stupid self-satisfied smirk is back on his lips. 

Quackity takes a slow breath and steps forward. Another breath and he’s lowering himself into the President’s lap; shuddering when he feels the hardness pressed against his own. 

Schlatt places a comforting hand on the kid’s back and begins guiding him to where he needs to be. He makes sure his assistant is in a somewhat comfortable position and then slowly, almost tenderly guides him down. 

The young man gasps, twisting his hands into his superior’s shirt as he’s lowered. It’s too much. He feels like he’s being split apart from the inside, and for a moment, Quackity feels his vision tunnel. He squeezes his eyes shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and his knuckles turn white from how tightly he’s gripping onto Schlatt’s shirt. It takes him a moment to realize he’s fully seated in the ram’s lap. 

“Quackity.” 

A gentle hand brushes through his hair and down to his chin. He doesn’t open his eyes. It’s so much easier to just stay like this; feeling everything, but not having to confront it. If he opens his eyes, it’ll be real.

“Quackity, I need you to look at me.”

So he does, and god, it’s so much worse. When his eyes were closed, Quackity could imagine Schlatt however he wanted; could pretend he was some huge, imposing monster that could never be reasoned with. But now, seeing the very real concern in his boss’s eyes almost makes him relax. 

“I’m gonna start moving, alright? You tell me if I hurt you.”

“O-okay, boss…” 

Schlatt offers a crooked smile and begins moving his hips into that tight heat. Fuck, the kid feels amazing, even better than he was hoping for. He slides his hands down to Quackity’s hips and squeezes, starting to move faster and faster. He could get used to this. 

Quackity can’t hold it in anymore; he moans and bucks his hips with Schlatt’s increasing speed. This isn’t supposed to feel good, it was just supposed to be him letting his superior get off; maybe if he did well enough, Schlatt would give him some sort of special privileges. But no. Of course this had to end up the exact opposite of what he had been preparing for. He consoles himself by hiding his face in Schlatt’s chest. 

“Quackity--” Schlatt groans and snaps his hips up, tilting his head back. “Fuck, Q, you feel so good.”

The kid’s hips are moving on their own. He’s letting out small, breathy moans with each of the President’s thrusts. Every movement feels like it’s pushing Schlatt deeper and deeper into his stomach. 

“Fuck, Schlatt--” Quackity moans again, hips involuntarily bucking up. “I-I’m close.”

“Yeah, baby?” He takes that as an excuse to thrust a little harder, hold the kid a little tighter.  _ Mark him. _ Schlatt attaches his lips to Quackity’s neck, worrying the flesh there beneath his teeth until he’s sure there’s going to be a dark and obvious mark. No one will be able to see the kid without knowing what must’ve happened. 

Quackity finally releases his superior’s shirt, instead moving his hands up to thread his fingers in the man’s hair, narrowly avoiding the horns. They make eye contact for a long, heavy moment, and then Schlatt is leaning in. The young man didn’t expect his first kiss to be as oddly tender and loving as it is, especially not given the circumstances. And then, Schlatt moves his hips in the most deliciously perfect way, and Quackity feels the dam break. He comes harder than he ever has in his life, tears springing to his eyes as he does so. 

Schlatt isn’t far behind. The sight of this perfect boy coming apart all because of him is more than enough. He thrusts in one last time and grips Quackity’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, letting out a punched-out breath as he does so.

The kid goes limp, slumping against his boss and closing his eyes. The exhaustion is setting in. 

They stay like that for what feels like hours, their breathing settling into a gentle and steady rhythm. It almost feels peaceful, like this is how it’s supposed to be in this moment. 

“Quackity?”

“Mm?”

“You alright, bud?”

Quackity slowly raises his head. If he had the energy to punch Schlatt in his smug fucking face, he would. The genuine look of concern in those bloodshot eyes is the only thing that makes him reconsider. He braces his hands on Schlatt’s chest and pushes himself to his feet, stopping to put a hand on the desk to steady himself. 

“Lemme help you, Q.” Schlatt reaches out a hand.

The kid stares at the ram for another long moment before he pulls his pants up and shakily makes his way to the office door. 

Schlatt is once again left alone with the buzzing of his mind as his only company. Deep down, he knows this whole ordeal was a horrible mistake, knows that he and Quackity’s relationship will never be able to recover from this one selfish decision. Well… It’s too late to go back and fix anything. 

He redresses himself and stands, eyes falling on the bits of broken glass still on the tile floor. He should clean it up. It’s a hazard if nothing else, but his high is wearing off and he needs to find something to eat before anything else. 

His phone buzzes and lights up with a text from Quackity:  _ We need to talk about what just happened. Bring the coke. _

Schlatt smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Drop some kudos and a comment if you feel up to it.   
> It is literally 6am, and I need to sleep.


End file.
